


shit. lets be detectives

by originalPseudonym



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Albeist Language, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Drug Use, Humanstuck, Like really slow, Multi, POV Second Person, Slow Build, dont let the title fool you, there is an unfortunate lack of dave in this au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalPseudonym/pseuds/originalPseudonym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detectives Terezi Pryope and Sollux Captor have worked dozens of cases, and they'll work dozens more.</p><p>But this is the one that will change them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You bounce along the sidewalk, humming to yourself until your partner in justice, Sollux Captor, tells you to knock it off. You stop for approximately three seconds before you continue humming, because you’re never one to let Mr. Appleberry get you down, and it’s not like he’ll do anything. He’s the softest cop you’ve ever met!

So you two continue along, Sollux dragging his feet and you clacking your cane. He adjusts his glasses as you duck under the crime scene tape, and lets out an _oof_ when you accidently-on-purpose elbow him in the ribcage.

“Good morning!” Aradia calls from the spot on the ground that she’s kneeling at. She has her coroner jacket wrapped tight around her, and she adjusts it as you come near. She (presumably) flashes a smile at you and Sollux, as she looms over a bloodied, lifeless body.

Ah, the smell of murder in the morning!

“Morning, AA,” Sollux says, pleasure at seeing his friend outshining his annoyance at being woken up early.  “What kind of shit do we got this time?"

“A stabbing!” she says cheerfully, and then adds, “A very violent one.”

You grin. This should take no time at all! Stabbings are messy, messy crimes, and passionate ones at that! You’ll be done before dinner.

You slide up next to Aradia, kneeling down over the body. Sollux keeps his distance, nodding to acknowledge a couple members of the forensics crew that are scrambling about.

“What do we know about this one?” you ask, tilting your head.

“The responding officer has her name,” she says, pointing in the direction of the man in blue talking to one of the specialists. You nod. You’ll get it later.

“Do we have a time of death?” you ask, adjusting your cane over your knees.

“Somewhere between 12:30 and 1:15 am, I think,” Aradia says, prodding at the body with latex covered fingers. “She has eight stab wounds on her back, and there’re bruises on her hairline.” You hear her push back the hair, probably to show Sollux, who has inched forward a little. He’s still a baby about crime scenes, it seems.

“She was likely grabbed by the hair, and stabbed in the back,” she continues. “Whoever killed this girl was not a very happy camper!”

“Well no shit,” Sollux says, “Most murders aren’t happy campers.”

“Objection!” you say, standing up. “Many serial killers are happy about murdering.” Sollux lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“You know, TZ, it’s not normal to say ‘objection’ in everyday conversation,” Sollux says, and Aradia giggles.

“Objection!” you say again, but this time it’s mostly done to annoy him. You think you hear him smack himself on the forehead.

“Look, can we just get back to the dead girl?”

“I suppose,” you say. “Her killer definitely knew her.” Aradia hums her agreement. Either her killer knew her, or they have some really bad anger issues. Anger issues worse than the ones they would’ve needed to have in order to kill someone, that is.

“Did you guys find the blade yet?” Sollux asks, the hope in his voice betraying him.

“Nope, sorry,” Aradia says. She smiles apologetically, and Sollux groans.

“Looks like we’re going hunting!” You say to Sollux, although you’re not particularly eager to go searching around for a knife either.

“The knife was about nine centimeters long, from what I can tell,” Aradia tells you helpfully, and you smile a _thank you_ in her direction, because Sollux is too busy grumbling.

You grab one of the analysts and the responding officer, sending the latter to talk to Sollux. He glares at you, and you can feel it. If there’s one thing that Sollux hates more than going on a scavenger hunt, it’s talking to people.

You flash a shit-eating grin and wave a s _ee you later_ at him, which he makes no effort to return.

His loss.

* * *

“Detective,” the man in the uniforms says in greeting, straightening up when you come near.

“Yeah, hey. What can you tell me?” you ask, already abandoning your manners. You can’t believe Terezi. She can’t even see, and she sends you to talk to some guy while she looks for a knife. A knife that she can’t see. Ugh.

The uniform doesn’t look fazed by your lack of manners though, which is kind of what you expected.

“Got a 911 call, some guy in hysterics, apparently. When I got here, he was like, traumatized.” The officers laughs to himself, and you stare at him. He trails off and swallows before continuing.  “I questioned him and sent him home.”

Oh for fuck’s sakes.

“You sent him home?” you ask through your teeth.

“Yup,” he says, completely and utterly oblivious.

“Without letting a detective question him?”

“Uh…”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Give me your notes.”

“Um, okay,” he says, flailing to retrieve a small notepad from his pocket. You take from him, and pocket it. 

“Do you have a name for me?” You ask, impatient.

“Yeah,” the guy says, eager to please now that he’s screwed up. “I.D. was on her. The name’s Nepeta Leijon. Got her phone too,” he says proudly, holding out the evidence bag for you to see, which you snatch from his hands.

“Yeah, okay,” you say. You turn away without letting him say whatever the hell he was going to, because it would’ve undoubtedly pissed you off.

Something nags at your brain, and it’s been tugging since you first heard the name of the victim. There’s something familiar about it, but you can’t place it. You shake your head in frustration. You’ll figure it out later.

* * *

 

“Ha!” you say, triumphantly, pulling the poorly discarded knife from the trash can.

You place it in the bag that Paul, one of the analysts, is holding open for you. You force him into a high-five, before peeling the gloves off of your hands.

You take a breath, stopping to listen to your surroundings. You were pretty lucky to have found the knife at all, and the fact that it was thrown in the nearest alley clues you into the fact that you probably aren’t dealing with a criminal mastermind.

At the end of the alley, away from where the body was found, you hear shuffling.

“Paul,” you say, getting his attention, “Is there someone down there?”

“Yes, actually,” Paul says. “Looks like a bum.”

You ignore his choice of words. “I’m going to go talk to him. Maybe he’s seen something.”

“Do you want me to get Detective Captor?”

You shake your head. “No, that’s okay. You don’t have to stick around, either.”

“Alright,” he says, a little uneasy. “See you later, then.”

You nod at him, and wait until you can no longer hear his fading footsteps before you make you your way down the alley, cane clacking ahead of you.

“Hello!” you call out, before you hear more shuffling. Then, a voice.

“I don’t want any trouble, ma’am.” You smile, and grip your cane.

“Then there won’t be trouble!” you say. “Now, I was wondering if you could help me out.”

“How could I do that?” he asks. He sounds nervous.

“There was a murder last night, in the park over there.” you gesture in the general direction of the park. “I was wondering if you’ve seen or heard anything.”

“Please, ma’am, I don’t want any trouble.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“I don’t – ”

“Listen, we can either do this here, or down at the station.” You really don’t have any cause to bring him in, but hopefully he doesn’t know that.

“No, ma’am, that won’t be necessary. I um,” he swallows. “I heard her screaming.”

“Did you see anything?”

He shifts. “I waited until it stopped. And then I waited some more, I waited a long time. I went and looked, but I stayed hidden here.”

You grip your cane tighter, willing yourself to be patient. “Did you see anyone?”

“I saw a lady,” he says. “It was dark, but I saw her, she was just standing there. She walked away very quickly, but I saw her. I saw her.”

You nod. “Do you think you could describe what she looks like to a sketch artist? It would really help us out.”

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I think I could.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Why the fuck are you two just sitting around?”

You and Sollux both look to the door of the break room. Well, Sollux looks, and you move your head in the general direction of the door, seeing blurs of color that don’t tell you much. You put down your coffee on the table in front of you, but Sollux continues drinking his.

“Hello, Karkat! I’m glad you decided to drop by,” you say, giving him your best smile. He growls.

“I am your _boss_. You’re supposed to call me _Captain_ Vantas, and calling me anything else is disrespectful toward me, and the position I hold,” He’s practically snarling at you, but you aren’t fooled.

“It’s a good thing that you’re so understanding, then.”

His eye twitches. “I could fire both of you,” he says, and Sollux snorts into his coffee.

“Like you would ever do that,” Sollux says. “You love us too much.”

“You’re severely overestimating your importance again, Captor. Maybe you should get that superiority complex checked out, before someone beats the shit out of you.” He pauses. “Actually, no. Don’t get it checked out. I’m sure it will be just fine.”

“It must be exhausting being you,” Sollux says.

Karkat steps further into the room. “You know what, it is exhausting being me. Thank you for noticing. Now, will someone please tell me _why you two are sitting around_?”

You sigh. “We’re sitting around because there’s nothing we can do right now,” you say. Karkat means well, but even with his experience as a detective, he doesn’t have enough patience. You continue. “We called the owner of the apartment that she and her cousin rent, but they didn't have much. Her cousin’s coming up to the station later today.” You pause to take a sip of your coffee before you continue.

“We did surveying, and nothing came up. No fingerprints on the knife, either. We got a sketch of the possible subject, and it’s been put out, but no one’s come in to the station. We did get a full statement from the homeless man at the scene, but we didn’t get any other useful information from him.”

Karkat crosses his arms. “You didn’t get _anything_ from him?”

“Nothing useful.”

Sollux speaks up. “What about the thing with the timeline?”

“Oh,” you say. “I’m not sure how relevant that is.”

Karkat huffs. “I don’t care how ‘relevant’ it is. Tell me, since you aren’t doing anything else.”

You’d roll your eyes, if it served any purpose. Instead, you say, “It’s just that given how the guy described it, our mystery suspect would have had to have waited at the scene for twenty minutes after he heard the victim scream.”

Karkat scowls. “How is that not relevant? It seems pretty fucking weird that a murder would just sit around where they killed, don’t you think?”

“There’s tons of possible explanations, KK,” Sollux answers for you. “She could’ve been waiting for the vic to die, or she could’ve panicked and blanked, or whatever. Calm your shit.”

Karkat runs his fingers through his hair. “Calm my shit?”

“Karkat, for Christ’s sake –” Sollux starts.

“Sure, I’ll calm my shit,” Karkat interrupts. “Why don’t we all calm our shit?” He throws his hand up in the air. “That’s a great idea! Here, I’ll calm my shit into my office, and calm my shit right the fuck down in my chair. And you two,” he says, and you brace yourself, “Can calm your shit all the way down to the coroner’s office, and see how Aradia’s shit is doing! Maybe you can help her calm shit too.”

You groan. “Karkat –”

“No, I don’t want to fucking hear it. It’s not like you’re doing anything worthwhile.” With that, he spins on his feet and marches out of the office.

As soon as he’s gone, you burst into laughter, and Sollux joins you.

“Wow,” you say, recovering, “He was bad today.”

“Yeah,” Sollux agrees, getting out of his chair. “He was.”

“You grab your jacket slung across the back of the chair and get up, shrugging it on. “I guess we’re going to see Aradia.”

“Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t sound nearly as irritated about it as he should be. You don’t question it.

He grabs both the mugs and dumps the coffee down the sink, and you follow him out the door.

* * *

You and Terezi enter the room where Aradia’s working on the autopsy, side by side. She looks up from the ribs she’s sawing open, and smiles at you.

God, you have to tell her to stop smiling over dead bodies.

“Hey,” she says brightly, and you decide not to tell her right now.

“Got anything for us, AA?” you ask.

“Not much.”

“Figured you wouldn’t,” you say, and Terezi nods her agreement. She walks closer to the examination table, and you join her, though not as quickly.

“Then why did you come down?” Aradia asks, grinning. And a little slyly, “Did you just want to see me?”

You flush a little at that, but you shake his head. “It was Karkat’s idea. He’s even more pissed off than usual today.”

She looks a little disappointed at that, but says, “That’s Karkat for you.” She continues. “But you didn’t let me finish! I don’t have much for you, but I do have something.”

“Oh?” Terezi asks, interested.

“Yes! As it turns out,” she says, “She had some drugs in her system.”

“Drugs?” you ask. “What kind?”

“Marijuana. And by some drugs, I mean a very small amount. I almost missed it.”

“Huh,” Terezi says. “So she had some a while before her death?”

“Maybe,” Aradia says. “She could’ve just been around someone who was smoking a lot of it right before she died.”

“So we’re looking for some stab-happy druggee?” you ask, sighing. “Great.”

“Don’t sound so down about it, Sollux,” Terezi pipes up. “Maybe they’ll be all blissed out when we find them!”

“Yeah Sollux, they might not want to stab you,” Aradia adds. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not exactly worried,” you say. “I can handle myself.”

“Really?” Terezi asks, and you immediately regret saying that. “Because I remember when you started screaming your head off when that little kid–”

“Okay! Holy shit TZ, how about we keep private stuff private?” You can feel your face heating up, and Aradia’s giggles are definitely not helping.

“Okay, fine,” Terezi says, and she laughs. God, your friends are such assholes.

“So do you have anything else for us, Aradia?” Terezi asks.

“Nope! That’s it. I’ll call you guys if there are any shocking developments.” You check your watch.

“Yeah, we need to head back to the precinct. It’s about time you said the vic’s cousin will get here,” you say to Terezi.

She spins on her feet and you dodge her cane with a certain level of experience, just managing to not knock into anything. You begin to follow her out, but Aradia speaks up.

“Wait!”

You turn back around. “Yeah?”

She looks embarrassed. “I, uh, just wanted to say bye.”

“Oh,” you laugh, scratching the back of your head, smiling. “Bye.”

Once you’ve made it out the door, Terezi elbows you. “So, when are you going to ask her out?”

“Ask who out?” She laughs.

“You know who, Sollux!”

“I dunno,” you say. No use trying to play coy with Terezi. You could never manage. “She’s probably not interested, anyway.” Terezi hits you on the shoulder.

“Quit putting yourself down, God! She totally likes you, and it’s been long enough,” she says, and you look over at her.

“Why would she?”

“Hell if I know!” Terezi says, jokingly. But then she says, “But seriously Sollux, if you don’t ask her out soon, she’s either going to move on or ask you out herself. Aradia’s not one to wait around.” 

You sigh. “How the fuck do you sound so reasonable all the time, TZ?

“It’s a mystery.”

* * *

When you and Sollux get back to the precinct, there’s a man waiting for you. He jumps up from the bench he’s seated at and meets you half way, walking stiff-backed all the way over.

Even before he meets you, you can smell the sweat on him. You resist the urge to scrunch up your nose.

“Holy shit,” you hear Sollux say beside you, a little bewildered, but you ignore him. You’re too busy concentrating on getting a picture of this guy in your mind.

His footsteps fall heavy, and you can imagine him towering over you. Or anyone, really. You’re surprised to hear him sniffling, and no, it’s definitely not a cold; he’s wiping his face and apologizing profusely.

“Holy shit,” Sollux says again, now that he’s closer. “Aren’t you that guy Aradia dated?”

He stands up straighter, which is pretty impressive considering how straight he was standing to begin with, and he grunts and sniffles at the same time.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” he says, and his voice comes from deep in his chest.

“Yeah,” you agree, scolding Sollux with a cane to the shin. “I don’t either.” You transfer your cane to you other hand so you can shake Equius’s hand which is, gross, covered in sweat.

“Hello, Mr. Zahhak, I presume?” He nods. “I’m Detective Pyrope, this is Detective Captor. Why don’t we have a seat?”

* * *

 

“So you’re Nepeta’s cousin?” you ask, as gently as you can.

“And roommate,” he says nodding. Tears well in his eyes, and he shakes them away and clears his throat. Sollux shifts uncomfortably. “I apologize. We were very close.”

“I’m sure,” you say. “Now, this is just standard procedure, but I need you to tell me where you were last night between the hours of 12:00 and 2:00 AM.”

“Is that when she died?” He asks, voice hard. You nod your head.

“I was out looking for her all night,” he says softly, “with my brother.”

“Why didn’t you contact the police?” Sollux asks, a little harshly.

He hangs his head in shame and sniffles again. “I was going to. But I didn’t want Nepeta to be angry with me.” You wait for him to explain, and he continues on. “There have been several occasions where I may have… _assumed_ she was missing, when she wasn’t.”

Sollux is silent at that, and you speak up.

“We'll need your brother’s number to confirm your alibi, you understand.”

“Yes, of course. That would be appropriate.”

You can feel Sollux’s eyes on you, as if to say,  _You’re going to let him off on that?_ , but you know people better than Sollux ever will. This guy is blubbering like a goddamn pansy, and you know that he didn’t kill his cousin. He may be physically capable of it, sure, but that’s no reason to suspect someone of murder.

“So Nepeta was unemployed, yes?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Self-employed,” he corrects. Then he says, fondly, “She took commission for crafts. She loved it.”

“And I don’t suppose she made any enemies through this?” you ask.

“No. No, she didn’t. Nepeta wasn’t one to make enemies.”

Sollux speaks up. “Did she have any friends?”

“Oh, yes,” Equius says. “She made friends with everyone. She did have quite a few close friends, too.”

“We’ll need names and numbers,” Sollux says, tacking on a mumbled _if you don’t mind_ at the end.

“Yes,” he says, quietly.

“One more thing,” you say, signalling Sollux, who pulls out the sketch of the suspect and lays it down flat.

“Do you recognize this woman?” Sollux asks.

He’s completely silent, and you think he stops breathing.

“Mr. Zahhak?”

“Yes, I do,” he says. You can hear his teeth chattering, and you suspect he might be shaking. “That’s one of Nepeta’s friends.”

Sollux leans forward. “What’s the name?”

He takes a few deep breaths, and you can really smell him now. When he speaks, his voice is controlled.

“That’s Vriska Serket.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I started this I was thinking, "Huh, maybe the copious amounts of police procedural shows I've seen will finally pay off." Well, as it turns out, it hasn't. I know nothing.
> 
> My goal is to update every Wednesday and Sunday, but if that doesn't work out I should be updating once a week, at least.
> 
> And Vriska will be making her appearance soon, so don't worry.


	3. Chapter 3

“I cannot _believe_ this. What’s your name? Let me speak to your manager.”

You roll your eyes and tap the metal plated named tag pinned to your shirt that reads _Vriska Serket_. The lady currently chewing your head off doesn’t seem to appreciate the gesture, but you don’t really care. She begins another tirade, and you cut her off.

"Listen,” you snap, “This is _GameStop,_ ok? The oldest games we sell are for the Gameboy. You can’t come in here and get mad over the fact that we don’t sell Sonic Adventure 2, for the _Dreamcast_ of all things, or that I called you an idiot because of it.”

Her jaw practically hits the floor, and you wince. Great. You’ve done it now, Serket.

She speaks in bursts, red-faced and indignant. “I would like. To speak. To your _manager_!”             

You throw your head back in the air with a silent groan before walking around the counter and toward the backroom, swearing under your breath all the way.

You hate your job. You really do. It’s such a waste of your talents, and no one seems to realize it but you. You get idiots wandering in all the time, in all shapes and sizes. Granted, you’re a little more impatient than usual lately, but it’s only because you’ve had a paranoid twist to your gut all week.

You throw open the door to the backroom, and your boss looks up from whatever thing he was organizing.

“There’s a customer that wants to talk to you,” you say, and the look that he gives you is not a happy one.

He says nothing to you, and you drag your feet to stand in the doorway when he walks briskly out of it.

The lady is yelling at him before he even makes it over to her, finger jabbing accusingly in your direction. He manages to calm her down quickly enough, and then she is speaking in a steely, cold voice with the occasional narrowed glare in your direction.

You make out an _I’m terribly sorry_ , but not much more than that. When your manager assures her that _action will be taken_ , she seems satisfied.

She says, “I would fire her, if I were you,” as she pushes her way out the doors, just loud enough for you to hear. You clench your fists and manage not to flip her off, but just barely. Your manager doesn’t wait a second after she’s left before he turns on you.

“I _should_ fire you, Vriska,” he says, sounding more tired than anything else. “This isn’t the first time you’ve mouthed off to a customer.”

“Did you hear what she was saying?” you ask, stuck between wanting to apologize and wanting to defend yourself.  “It’s not like she ever would’ve come back here, even if I didn’t ‘mouth off’ to her.”

“Vriska,” he says, rubbing his face. Guilt makes an appearance in your stomach, and you sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you say, though it takes everything in you to do it. You don’t think that you sound very convincing, even if you do mean what you say. “I’ve just been dealing with some things. There’s been some weird stuff, and-”

“Next time it happens, you’re fired,” he says, and you're glad that he cuts you off.

“Thank you,” you mumble, a little reluctant despite your situation.

“Just remember what I said,” he says, and you nod once.

When he walks off, the tension leaves your shoulders and you let out a sigh. You may hate this job, but you need it.

* * *

“Are you sure these are the right apartments?” you ask Terezi dubiously, scuffing your shoes on the shoddy elevator carpet.

“Yes. Unless these aren’t Greenville apartments,” she says. She tilts her head. “Why?”

“I don’t know. The way that Equius guy was describing Serket. It just made me imagine that she has her own evil liar, I guess.”

Terezi laughs. “‘That Equius guy,’ huh?” she asks, and the elevator dings open. She steps out, and you belatedly remember to follow.

“What?” you ask, defensive. When she doesn’t respond, you say, “I don’t like what you’re insinuating, TZ.”

“I’m not insinuating anything!” she says, grinning. “What are you acting so defensive for?”

You’re saved from answering when you come up on the right door, and you have to stop Terezi from walking right off without you.

You knock on the door twice. Terezi sniffs the air.

“What’s up?”

“Do you smell that?”

“Obviously not,” you say, a little irritated. “What is it?”

“Weed,” she says, and the door flings open. A tall, scrawny woman with a face that matches the sketch stands in the doorway. Smoke curls up from the joint between her fingers, as if on cue.

Everyone stands there for a moment, no one quite sure how to react.

“Hello,” Terezi says eventually, sounding a little amused. “I’m Detective Pyrope, and this Detective Captor. Is there a Vriska Serket living here?”

She shuts the door in your faces.

You knock on the door again, before getting out your gun.

“Is drug possession enough to get us in?” you ask, a little doubtful.

“Sure is!” she says, leaning her cane up against the wall before pulling her gun out as well. She’s always a little too eager to be waving around a gun for a legally blind woman. She never did tell you how the hell she was able to become a cop.

Terezi tells you to kick down the door, but you ignore her and try the doorknob. The door opens, and Terezi hums disappointedly.

When you get in the apartment, Serket’s still trying to get her window open to make her escape. You have no idea where the hell she plans on going, but she seems pretty determined to get that window open.

She whirls around and tries to run past you, and you holster your gun before you grab her, tackling her to the ground. Once you have her on the ground, she stops struggling. Terezi chuckles when you click the handcuffs into place, and you read Serket her Miranda Rights as she stares into the ground.

* * *

You are _always_ at the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s like the universe has some personal vendetta against you, and only you. That’s really the only explanation for it. You tell Detective Pyrope as much when she sits down in an interrogation room, rubbing your wrists where the handcuffs cut into your flesh. She tells you to be quiet, snapping her teeth in a way that somehow gets you to do as she says.

She plops herself down in the chair in front of you. She has to readjust her glasses from the less than graceful landing, and your sharp eyes are drawn to her dull ones. In all your panic before, you didn’t even notice.

“A blind cop?” you ask incredulously, completely on impulse, and you almost immediately regret it. Not because she looks at you in a traditionally mean way or anything, but because she _grins_ at you, and nothing is nice about it. Shit.

“That’s correct!” she says.  “You’ll be thinking for the masses, with observations like that.”

_Oh hell no._

You get yourself together somewhat, because you’re not about to be shown up by some cop, especially when you’re not guilty of anything. Besides having weed. But who even gives a shit about that?

You have to squint to examine her, because that other cop broke your glasses when he tackled you. She’s only a little bit older than you by the looks of her, which you _guess_ is impressive. Being promoted to a detective when you’re as young as her is something of an accomplishment. You can give her that, even though her chosen career path knocks her down a few points.

She’s certainly less imposing than you are, if only for her height. The sharpness of her joints and the cut of her smile could make up for that, at least in a psychological sense, but you aren’t going to be intimidated by her. And you’ll show her that you aren’t going to be intimidated by her.

You lean back and rest your hands on your legs, refusing to get riled up. She’s going to ask her questions, you’re going to answer them, and then you’re going to go home.

“So, Miss Serket. Care to tell me why you killed Nepeta Leijon?”

Your leg jerks and you sit up straight. “I didn’t!” you say, voicing squeaking embarrassingly when you slam your fist on the table. So much for not getting riled up. You knew that this was coming, but the accusation still hits you hard.

“You were there when she died,” she says simply. “And you tried to run away when we came to talk to you. Surely you are aware how that seems.”

“Well, yeah,” you say in a sputter. “But I didn’t kill her! I don't even know her that well anymore!”

“So you admit to knowing her? And being there at the time of her death?” Your mind reels, and you trip over yourself to answer her.

“Well, no! She was already dead when I got there. And of course I admit to knowing her! That’s not exactly a crime!” Panic seeps into your voice, and you will yourself to calm down. You’ve dealt with cops before, and you’re still no better at it.

“No,” she agrees, placing her elbows on the table and leaning forward. “Knowing someone is definitely not a crime. Drug possession, however, is. So is resisting arrest, as is committing murder!” She looks pleased at herself when she finishes, and she thinks she’s got it all figured out. You have to admit, things aren’t looking very good for you right now.

“I didn’t do any of those things!” you say, and it isn’t too surprising when she doesn’t seem convinced. “Okay,” you continue. “I had some weed! But that’s it. And I didn’t resist arrest.” You must have got her on that, because her jaw ticks.

“You can’t prove anything else, because I didn’t do anything else,” you say nervously, and she doesn’t look very happy.

“We’ll see about that,” she says, and you swallow. “I’ll be back momentarily,” she says, standing up. Your eyes follow her out the door, and you drum your fingers unsteadily on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third installment's done, now with 400% more Vriska. Which is how it should be, really.
> 
> And yes, I'm going to continuing writing this while completely ignoring how unrealistic it is for there to be a blind cop. Let me dream.


	4. Chapter 4

You let the interrogation room door close behind you, and you only pause for a moment before you start off. But when Sollux comes out of the observation room to meet you, you let out a sigh, leaning against the nearest wall.

“What are you thinking, TZ?” Sollux asks you, and you shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I think she could’ve done it, easily,” you say, because there’s nothing about that girl that doesn’t scream dangerous. Sollux doesn’t seem to agree with you on the sentiment.

“We might have enough to get a warrant to search her house,” Sollux says, uncertain. “But I don't know if we can snag one for sure. We don’t have much evidence against her.”

“She was at the crime scene at the time of the murder!” you say. “ _And_ she knew the victim. How is that not enough?”

“She was at the crime scene _around_ the time of the murder,” Sollux corrects. Then he continues on, slowly. “What’s up with you? You’re not one to jump to conclusions without evidence.”

You scrunch up your nose and take a deep breath. What _is_ up with you?

“I just…have a feeling about her,” you say. You think for a moment, and something occurs to you.

“She smokes weed,” you say. “Her entire apartment reeks of it. Aradia said that Leijon might have been around someone who was smoking when she died.”

“That’s a link, I guess” Sollux concedes. “But it’s a pretty strenuous one.”

“God, Sollux!” you say, punching him in the shoulder. “Why are you only ever biased when it’s inconvenient?”

You can feel the sudden sullenness radiating off him, and you don’t even worry about having offended him. He’ll get over it!

You don't even have to wait for him to get over it, because you hear crashing coming from the room across the hall. Karkat comes bursting out of the door, nearly knocking down a passerby.

“What the fuck are you two yelling about out here?” he asks, speaking twice as loud as you were.

“Why do you sit in there with the blinds drawn?” Sollux asks moodily. “People think you’re a freak.”

“Because it’s my office, that’s fucking why,” Karkat snaps. “Now what’s going on?”

“Terezi thinks that Serket killed our victim.”

“So?”

“We have practically nothing on her.”

“Hey!” you say. “That’s not true.”

“Sorry,” Sollux says, irritated. “We have two things that might possibly connect her to the murder, maybe.” Karkat turns to you, crossing his arms.

“What do you have on her right now?” he asks, nodding to the interrogation room.

“We’re holding her on marijuana possession,” you say, and you wince as you do.

“That’s it? What makes you think she’s your killer?” Karkat asks, and Sollux interrupts you before you can answer.

“She has a _feeling_ ,” Sollux says, and you grimace. You hope he can see your face.

“A feeling?” Karkat asks, bewildered. “When the fuck did you start operating on feelings?”

“I don’t operate on feelings!” you say, exasperated. “That’s the point! Maybe you guys should listen to me. And _maybe_ ,” you say, turning to Sollux, “You should consider that she knew the victim, and that she was at the crime scene!”

Karkat doesn’t say anything for a moment, most likely considering what you said. Then, he says, “Alright, here’s what’s going to happen. You two are going to go in there and threaten to hold her here for as long as we can. Tell her that when we can’t hold her any longer, we’ll get her on possession.”

“What would that do?” Sollux asks.

“What do you mean, _what would that do_?” Karkat asks condescendingly, and you can practically hear Sollux roll his eyes. Karkat doesn’t seem to care at all, which doesn’t really come as a shock.

“She’s involved in all this somehow,” Karkat says. “She probably has a job, or at the very least someplace to be. If she didn’t kill the victim, she’ll grow a brain and tell us what she knows, if only to save herself from being locked up in this shithole. If she's a killer, we’ll find out.”

“Maybe she’ll be too stubborn to say anything,” you say, frowning. “Regardless of her level of guiltiness.”

“Did you fucking see her?”

“Did you?” Sollux asks, and Karkat turns to glare at him.

“Yes, I did, dumbass. I also looked her up in the database while you two were off fucking around, and she’s had run-ins with the law before. Minor shit, mostly, but she’s not going to want to stick around here, especially because she probably needs whatever shitty income she gets.” By the end of his rant, Karkat’s out of breath, and you laugh.

“Wow,” you say, grinning.

“What?” he snaps.

“I’m impressed with your profiling skills, _Captain Vantas_ ,” you say, “Even if your predictions just _barely_ make sense.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Karkat says, “And go figure out if there’s a murder in there. And hurry up. I want to go home soon.”

* * *

“You’re the guy that broke my glasses!”

“You’re the girl that broke her glasses while trying to run away from the police,” you say, sitting down next to Terezi. “It’s a pleasure,” you add on sarcastically.

“Is this some kind of cover up bullshit? When can I get a lawyer?”

“We told you that you have a right to an attorney,” Terezi says. “Would you like one present?”

Serket shakes her head in front of you, blowing wild hair out of her face. When she seems to realize that shaking her head does fuck-all for Terezi, she mumbles out a _no_.

Terezi smiles. “I didn’t think so!” she says.  “And what do you think we’re trying to cover up, exactly?”

“Uh,” she says, rolling her eyes, “That your friend broke my glasses.” You outright laugh at her.

“That’s not something that really needs to be kept a secret,” Terezi says dryly.

“But he broke my glasses!”

“Look,” you say, “Do you want to go home, or what?”

That gets her to shut up. She hesitates, tracing the ceiling with her eyes. Terezi speaks up.

“Normally we couldn’t hold you for very long. Lucky for us, you decided to smoke a joint! Thanks for that, by the way,” Terezi says with a grin, and Serket’s jaw ticks. “But we’re willing to cut you some slack!”

“Oh yeah?” Serket says, looking a little skeptical. You don’t blame her, talking to Terezi. “What do you want me to do?”

“Tell us everything,” you say.

She glances at you, and she seems pretty uninterested given the situation. “Could you narrow it down?”

Terezi leans forward. “Let’s start with how you know the victim.”

Serket flips her hair out of her face. “We used to be really good friends,” she says, a bit dismissively. “We met in grade school.”

“What happened?”

She shrugs. “Life.”

“Care to expand?” Terezi says irritably, and you glance at her. Jesus, you don’t know what the hell has gotten into her. She’s usually scaring the piss out of the suspect by now, but she just sounds frustrated.

Serket swallows before speaking, and she looks like she has to force herself to do it. “I started getting in some trouble around the time I started high school. God, it wasn’t even a big deal!” she says. “But none of my friends wanted to hang out with me anymore. I guess they were too good for me, or something!”

She looks a little embarrassed for her outburst, but she continues on. “And then Nepeta calls me a few weeks ago, out of practically fucking _nowhere._ I finally agree to meet up with her, and she turns up dead!” She sounds a little shaken, but irritated more than anything else.

“You don’t sound too upset about it,” you observe.

“Like I said, I hadn’t talked to her in forever.”

“How did you find her?” Terezi asks.

“What?”

“How did you find her?” she repeats. “I’m guessing you didn’t just decide to go for a stroll in the park last night?”

“Oh,” Serket says, genuinely surprised that she omitted that part of her story. “Yeah. She texted me. She said she needed my help and to go to that park.” You start to speak, but Terezi cuts you off.

“And where were you before that?” Terezi asks.

“At my apartment.”

“Is there anyone that can confirm that?”

Serket pauses. “The lady in the apartment across from me, I guess. She was out having a smoke when I left.”

“Hold on,” you say, scratching your head. “You get a text at midnight telling you to go to some random park, and you just do it?”

“It was later than midnight,” she says, irritated. “It was like one when she texted me.”

“Show me the text,” you say. She huffs but gets out her phone, scrolling and clicking until she reaches her destination. “There,” she says, showing you the text.

It’s there, and the time reads 1:05 AM. You clear your throat, glancing at Terezi. If Serket’s neighbor can confirm that she didn’t leave the apartments until then, it’s not likely at all that the girl in front of you killed the victim. Terezi seems to realize this as well, because her face contorts in frustration.

“Thanks,” you say, handing the phone back. “But I still don’t understand why you went.”

“She wanted me to go!”

“And you listened to her?” you ask, incredulous. “You didn’t think anything about it was weird?”

She glares at you. “Of course I thought it was weird! Everything about her talking to me again was weird.”

“What do you mean?” Terezi asks.

“I mean, she was never being all that normal, even when she first called me! Nepeta’s always been weird, but she sounded fucking crazy. I didn’t believe her at first,” she says. Your eyebrows furrow.

Terezi tilts her head. “Believe what?”

“She thought someone was stalking her,” Serket says, shaking her head. “I was just starting to think she was right, but it’s too late now.”

"She thought someone was  _stalking her_?" Terezi asks. "You didnt't think to mention that sooner?"

Vriska's eyes flare up. "I was going to, but you were too busy calling me a killer!"

You wave your hand. “Everyone calm down for a second, Jesus. Why did she call you?” you ask. “You weren’t close.”

“She didn’t want to worry her _friends_ ,” she says bitterly. You nod. Makes enough sense to you. You look over at Terezi, and she looks lost in thought.

“Wait,” Terezi says, leaning forward. “You said you didn’t believe her _at first_. When did you start believing her?” 

Serket leans forward too. You stay where you are. “That’s what I was going to tell you next,” she says, voice low. “After I started talking to Nepeta regularly, I started getting all paranoid. I swear I saw a guy following me once.”

Terezi raises an eyebrow. “Really?” she asks, not convinced.

“Yeah! I was never gonna meet up with Nepeta, but I started to freak out a little bit.”

“Are you generally a paranoid person?” Terezi asks, and Vriska leans back.

“Fuck you,” she says, crossing her arms. Terezi grins. There she is.

“Alright,” you say, cutting off Terezi mid-cackle. You sigh and rub your face with your hands. “That was helpful and all, but do you have anyone that can confirm _anything_ about that?”

She looks angry, but she does think for a moment. “Nepeta called me a couple times at work. My boss got me in trouble for it.” She pauses again. “I told this kid I work with that I thought someone was stalking me.”

“We’ll be checking up on that,” Terezi says, but she seems satisfied. She turns to you. “Anything else?”

“Nope,” you say, getting up. Terezi does the same.

“I need to go talk to my boss, but you’ll probably be able to go home soon,” Terezi says, and she sounds a little sorry for it.

“Wait!” Serket says. “I just told you that I think someone’s stalking me! Aren’t you going to do something about it?”

“Unless you have anything more than just paranoia, no, we can’t,” you say. Terezi sighs.

“I’ll see about getting a patrol car to go by your street tonight. I’ll tell him to look out for any shadowy figures,” Terezi says. Serket knows that she’s making fun of her, and she fumes, but Terezi’s already out the door.

You give a half-assed wave. “Thanks for your time,” you say, and you don’t wait for a reply. You have plans to catch Aradia before she goes home for the day, and you aren’t going to be able to do that in an interrogation room.

If only it were that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long one! Well, not really, but it was slightly longer than usual and all the characters did was talk.
> 
> I promise that some actual stuff will happen soon. (note: 'actual stuff' is a real term in writing, trust me)


	5. Chapter 5

You’ve watched the cop car circle around once, twice, three times. It comes around every fifteen minutes, which is more time than you need.

You blink lazily from the dumpster you’re seated on. When the car turns the corner and disappears into the darkness for the fourth time, you hop off the dumpster. You allow your creaking bones some relief with a roll of your neck and shoulders. You turn and grab the brown brick you’ve brought with you, running gloved hands over it in idle disinterest.

For the moment your rage has subsided, and you almost consider going back home. But then you remember what brought you here in the first place, and a burst of anger heats up your entire body. It leads you across the street, and you move quickly with it. You’re halfway up the fire escape before you’ve even registered the rusted metal through the thin material covering your hands, and you don’t stop when the material tears slightly.

When the window’s in sight, you stop moving, bringing up the brick once again. You weigh it in your hand for a moment, glancing over the writing you added to it not even an hour before. You throw it with a violent jerk of your arm, and you don’t leave until you hear the glass break.

* * *

“Uh, hey, Aradia.”

You start a little bit, but you laugh over his apologies. “It’s alright, Sollux,” you say. “Just don’t be so quiet next time.”

He nods and you go back to the task of zipping up your coat, and when you’re finished, you look around your office with an amused sort of patience. Sollux clears his throat, and you tilt your head.

“Were you leaving?”

“Yes,” you say. “Just about!”

“Oh,” Sollux says, scratching his neck. You smile at him.

He shifts on his feet, and you can tell that he came here on a mission. There’s a giddy feeling in your stomach, but you let him continue battling whatever internal dilemma he’s facing, mostly because it’s kind of adorable.

“Well,” he says, finally, dropping his arm to his side. “I guess I’ll let you go.”

He makes to leave, and you roll your eyes. “Sollux,” you say, and he turns back, hopefulness betraying him. “Do you want to get a coffee tomorrow?”

* * *

You all but skip from your car to your front door, and you can’t stop yourself from whistling. It’s stupid o’clock at night and you have to wake up at five tomorrow to get ready for the hell you call a job, but none of that matters, because you have a date with Aradia tomorrow.

You toss your keys on the counter, and your cat hisses his discontent when they slide too close for his comfort. You go to feed him as his tail flicks back and forth, and his mismatched eyes watch you with interest. You give him an obligatory pet before making a beeline to your room, almost forgetting that you can’t just fall into bed with the day’s clothes on.

Your thoughts were racing all the way home, but now that you’re here, the thought of sleeping is the only thing on your mind. Today was ridiculously long, and you’re actually _excited_ for tomorrow, for the first time in a long while, almost as excited as much as you’re done with today.

As soon as you’re out of clothes you’re in bed, and as soon as you’re asleep your phone is ringing.

God fucking dammit.

* * *

You tap your foot impatiently, standing in the corner of your apartment, your fucking apartment, as the few cops scramble about. You cannot believe this.

They haven’t cleaned up any of the glass, because its _evidence_ apparently, but you have no idea why that’s preventing them from picking up the shards littering the carpet. You already got scolded for picking up the brick, _because fingerprints_ , but you honestly could not care less about any of that. You just want to be left the hell alone.

You tried telling this to a few of them, asking them where you were supposed to go now, but you were only told that _Detective Pyrope_ _will be here soon, ma’am_. So you wait.

When she finally shows up you’re dozing off, swaying on your feet. One of the cops in uniform lets her know that she didn’t have to come, and she informs him that it’s her case, so she should be there. You roll your eyes.

“Nice of you to come, Pyrope! Where’s Captor?” you ask, coming out from your corner. The Not Pyrope Cop glances at you irritably, and you glare back at him until he leaves.

“Hello, Ms. Serket,” she says, and she sounds tired. Good! Everyone can join the club. “Sollux is getting his beauty sleep. He couldn’t make it, unfortunately.”

“That’s too bad, I was really looking forward to hearing his lisp. And, please!” you say, all faux-friendliness, “Call me Vriska. Considering you can probably say I’m not a murderer, now.”

“I still can’t know that for sure,” she says, and you cannot believe this girl. “Not until I confirm your alibi. This doesn’t prove anything. You could’ve done it yourself, if you really wanted to make yourself seem innocent.”

“Wow, you got it!” you say. “I totally wrote ‘your reckoning is coming’ on a brick and threw it through my own damn window, you know, for kicks. That’s not a crackpot theory at all.”

“Is that an admission of guilt?”

“Fuck you.”

She shakes her head, but she’s smiling a little. You narrow your eyes at her, and it serves to do absolutely nothing. She clears her throat.

“You’re going to need to stay with a friend, or in a hotel,” she says. “This is a crime scene now.”

Your grind your teeth together. “I can’t do that,” you say. “And I have to work tomorrow.”

“You don’t have anyone to stay with?” she asks, and you feel your face heat up.

“No,” you say. Her eyebrows knit together.

“What about a hotel?”

“Have you seen this place?” you ask, and then give a short laugh. “I guess you haven’t.” She doesn’t seem fazed, and you're a little disappointed. “Anywaaaays, I can’t afford a hotel!”

Pyrope looks contemplative. “You can stay down at the station,” she suggests, and you’re already saying no before she finishes her sentence.

“I’m not staying at a police station, ever,” you say, and she nearly huffs.

“Well, pack your bags, and go somewhere!” she says, and you ball up your hands in fists.

“What the hell! Where am I supposed to go?” you mean to sound angry, but panic comes out instead.

“God, just,” Terezi says, running her hand through her hair, and you follow the movement with your eyes. “Go get your stuff together. You can stay with me.” You scrunch up your face and cross your arms.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” you say.

“Look,” she says shortly. “You can either stay with me, or you can stay at the station. Either way, it won’t be long.”

You roll your eyes with a dramatic sigh, and you glance down at her. “Don’t you think I’m a murderer? Aren't you afraid I'll like, kill you in your sleep, or something?”

She looks defeated. “Obviously not, Vriska. Plus, I could take you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like with every word I write, this just gets increasingly unrealistic. None of this is proper procedure, I'm pretty sure. Hopefully everyone can just ignore that for the sake of fanfiction.
> 
> And are people reading this? Are people reading this and enjoying it? These are the questions I need answers to. Someone should answer them.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time you get to your apartment, Vriska in tow, you’re seriously regretting being as generous as you were. You weren’t aware someone could possibly talk so much about _themselves_. It’s almost impressive.

She doesn’t tell you much that’s worth anything, really, but you do tuck away the bits of actual information that she lets slip, just in case you need it later. And it’s quite possible you _will_ need it later. You aren’t letting this girl off the metaphorical hook yet! No one’s officially off the hook until someone else can replace them on the hook. That’s your policy, anyway.

When you reach to unlock the door, you can feel Vriska’s eyes on your back, and you can almost hear the sarcastic offer of hers to help. But you get the key into the lock on the first try, and you almost smirk when you hear her swallow back whatever snarky comment she was going to make.

You swing the door open, but you move to close it after Vriska follows you in. As you turn the lock, Vriska gives a dissatisfied grunt.

“What?” you ask, before smacking at her shins with your cane. “Shoes.”

You hear Vriska step out of her shoes, and you wince when she flings them off her feet and into the wall.

“Why does your apartment look so nice?” she asks, wandering away from you. You don’t suspect it’s meant to be a compliment, but who knows. “Can I trade you for mine? It’s not like you can appreciate this one!” She laughs at her own joke, before sinking down onto your couch, shrugging the bag that she brought off her shoulders.

“I can appreciate that the entire building doesn’t smell like trash!” you quip, walking to face her.

“Hey!” she says, but she doesn’t sound too angry about it.

“You can sleep here,” you say tiredly. “Assuming you don’t mind,” you add on, mocking.

She either doesn’t pick up on your tone or ignores it completely, because she just sinks down further into the couch.

“The bathroom's down the hall,” you say. She grunts in response, and you shake your head.

“You know, you could be a little more grateful!”

She laughs, before stopping herself. “Thanks,” she says a little quietly. But then she says, “I still think you’re stupid for letting a stranger sleep on your couch.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re so charming!” you exclaim, and she snorts.

“Go to sleep, Pyrope,” she says. You shake your head fondly before making your way to your bedroom, all the while wondering how you can be fond of someone you barely know.

* * *

You’re having what is probably an awesome dream when Terezi shakes you awake. You blink the bleariness out of your eyes, annoyed before you even figure out where you are.

“What time is it?” you mumble, and Terezi grins down at you.

“It’s time to get up!” she says.

You roll your eyes, reaching for your phone on the stand next to the couch. You see the time, and you immediately wish you hadn’t.

“It’s five o’clock in the fucking morning,” you say, shoving your face back into the pillow.

“Five thirty-four, to be exact!” she says. She smacks the back of your head, and you let out a surprised and entirely embarrassing yelp. “Come on!” she continues, ignoring you. “I need to go to work, and you’re not staying here without supervision.”

“If I was going to mess with your shit, I would’ve done it last night,” you say, but the pillow prevents any coherency.

Terezi’s poking you now, and you relent.

“Could I shower, at least?” you grumble, and she seems to consider it.

“Hurry up,” she says eventually, nodding her assent. “You have twenty minutes.”

You start to protest, but she’s having none of it. You drop your head back down on the pillow in huff, deciding to savor it for just a few more seconds. The couch is far more comfortable than it has any right to be, and it takes all your willpower to get up and drag yourself toward Terezi’s bathroom.

* * *

 

“Vriska,” you say, your voice singsong despite your irritation. “If I’m late to work, I’ll make you sleep outside.”

You knock on your bathroom door again, and you finally hear the sound of running water cease shortly after.

“Sorry, Pyrope!” she calls out, though she doesn’t sound sorry at all. “It’s not my fault you have so many different kinds of soap.”

You lean your head against the door, cursing yourself for not clearing those out earlier this morning. She probably used all your good-smelling soap! The fiend.

It takes another few minutes of arguing through the barrier of the wooden door before Vriska graces you with her presence. You’re actually proud of yourself when she finally comes out, because you went the whole time without thinking about the fact that she was talking to you while clothing was absent from her body.

She’s still tugging on a shirt that smells faintly of Doritos and weed, but you grab her arm and half-drag her toward the front door. She makes an indignant noise, but not much else. The smell of your soap and the smell of her unwashed shirt mingle, and you have no idea how to feel about that.

She manages to break away from you for a second, but she only does so to grab her car keys and wallet from her bag.

When you get outside and walk off in the direction of the bus stop, Vriska stops you by mean of stepping in front of you.

“Wait,” she says, and you can hear the frown in her voice. “Where are you going?”

“To work, Vriska,” you say. “Some of us have to contribute to society!”

“Let me give you a ride,” she offers, and you scrunch up your face. She audibly swallows, and she adds on, “It’s not like I have anywhere to be for another three hours!” She sounds defensive, and you grin.

“So helpful!” you say. “Are you trying to make me less suspicious of you?”

Vriska huffs. “God, I’m just trying to be nice,” she says. “Freak.”

“Fine,” you say. “But I’ve got my eyes on you! Well, not really. But you get the point!”

“Fuck you,” she says, and you laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm pretty much the queen of unannounced hiatuses. (I'm so sorry, I promise I was busy)
> 
> Also, I might as well rename this story "How Many Times Can Vriska Possibly Say 'Fuck You' To Terezi"


End file.
